Pristine

Today I finally finished my obstreperous novel. When I finally got down to writing again, the story poured out of me and I didn't quit until I was done. And that was when I realised. It was not about completing the novel. It was about hammering it into shape. Now I shall have to copy what I wrote into a word document. And commence: editing!

The working title is Pristine and I'm making fun of a lot of things but it turns out sort of tragic, anyway.

Now let's see if I can whip it into shape.

How long before my soul catches up?

Every so often a word, a phrase, a name
splashes across my life
like a bloodstain
Like blood
like a stain
And I remember
And I am filled with remorse
At all the things I did
and all the ones
I did them too

And I wonder what I can do
or be or feel or say
to stop staining it anew
to wipe clean the slate

To be, in peace, in calm
in serenity

And I wonder
how long before
my actions catch up
my thoughts catch up
my feelings catch up
with my soul?